


MVP - A Snapshot of Hana Song

by Fulgadrum



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 19:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulgadrum/pseuds/Fulgadrum
Summary: When Hana was just a girl, her grandmother said these words to her:“If you want to win, work for it, child.”D.Va strongly suspected her halmoni would be proud, if she could know what she had started.





	MVP - A Snapshot of Hana Song

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my good friend Mirin, whose birthday is today. Keep on shining, starlight.

Hana’s grandmother, born Sagong Chŏng-sun, had been a child when the Japanese occupation of Korea ended. At the height of the occupying force’s cultural suppression, Chŏng-sun’s own grandmother had taught her young granddaughter traditional Korean games that would have otherwise been stamped out — games rooted in folklore, some even older than hangul. These were Hana’s precious heirlooms, and many were the days spent cooped up in her mother’s tiny apartment, playing yutnori and gonu with her grandmother while they waited for the rain to let up.

 _“Halmoni…”_ Hana had once whined, pushing herself away from the low table to lie back against the threadbare rug. _“You never let me win.”_

Her grandmother simply gazed down at her, eyes steely and unsympathetic, as she gathered up the spread of playing cards to shuffle.

_“If you want to win, work for it, child.”_

She wasn’t the sort of person who backed down from a challenge. Bolstered by those words instead of being discouraged, Hana started to match her grandmother’s skill in games with her own cunning, despite the gap in experience. She won perhaps one in every five games they played, and was always improving — and when she won, how her grandmother’s eyes would shine with pride, and the moment wasn’t even spoiled when the old woman would tease her _(“Are you getting better or just more lucky, Rabbit?”)._

Then, her grandmother’s health took a turn for the worse, and little by little the games they shared became increasingly seldom occurrences, until they stopped altogether.

It was hard going for a long while after Grandmother passed. When Hana looked at the chess set in their once-shared bedroom, the game half played, never to be finished… it was all too much.

Seeing Hana’s despondency, her mother, a serious woman who did not share her family’s great love of games, did an impulsive thing. One late evening, she detoured on her way home from her work and purchased an old Sega Dreamcast from the secondhand shop, along with a handful of scratched CD roms. It was an ugly plastic box, two console generations out of date. Hana had never been too interested in video games — it was one of a number of “boy things” that, like wrestling in the muddy yard and smuggling nude magazines into school, she wasn’t terribly curious about. When she connected it to the little television in the dining room, only half the games still ran. But the dull glow of the television, the bleep-bloops of music, and the click-clack of colorful buttons was engaging enough to occupy those quiet, lonely hours before her mother returned home every night.

Hana wasn’t sure what changed, or why, but at some point before graduating middle school and after she had completed all of her Dreamcast games several times (perfect save files all in a row, one-hundred-percent completion) she found herself standing outside of a gaming cafe. The cafe’s staff charged by the hour to use their high-end PCs, top of the line rigs which outpaced her school’s computers (and the brick of a laptop her mother sometimes brought home, which was little more than a spreadsheet machine) to an absurd degree.

With only vague ideas of what she was getting herself into, Hana sat herself in a plush chair and pulled herself towards the computer, drawing a few curious looks from the largely male customers — curious, but not unkind as she had feared. With bright eyes and a heart full of hope, Hana logged on for the first time.

The subsequent year passed by in a blur, studies falling to the wayside even as she entered high school.

Warcraft. League. Counterstrike. Age of Empires.

A crowd at her back, cheering her on, as she no-scope headshots a platinum-level player from halfway across the map, again.

MMORPG. MOBA. FPS. RTS.

Her mother, face pulled into a frown, asking her why her grades have been dropping, asking where Hana went after school.

Casual. Noob. Hobbyist. Veteran.

 _When did the games become more than just a distraction,_ Hana wondered, idly purchasing herself a Starcraft subscription.

 _Winning got me this far,_ as she signed on to her first esports sponsorship. _How much father can I go?_

Then, later, when the MEKA recruiters come, _was it in my blood all along?_

 

 

Life was a challenge, but not one she couldn’t overcome. The training was tough and the hours were long, but it was just as fun as it was exhausting, and she always performed best under pressure.

Hana Song was a excellent gamer and entertainer, well-loved by her fan-base, but D.Va was transcendent. Rising star, liberator, celebrity, soldier. An idol, a warrior. The face of MEKA’s elite pilots, “D.Va” was a household name the world over, proudly and decisively combating the Omnic crisis. All of this came with perks — her mother would never have to work again, and what little time D.Va spent off of the training grounds or the battlefield passed in luxury.

And that was all well and good, but she’d be lying if she claimed any of that was the reason why she devoted herself to the Korean army’s Mobile Exo-Force.

Was it any real surprise that war was the greatest game mankind had ever produced?

Was it shocking, given that it was the favored subject matter of countless movies, novels, video games, children at play, and great works of art? Humans invented war before they’d made the wheel. D.Va turned war into the casual online entertainment of record numbers of steam watchers the world over. The world continued to spin.

There was some controversy at first, the rumblings of malcontent parents worried that their children would be desensitized to violence, but, well. It wasn’t as if she was fighting actual people, was she? Her heart went out to the sane Omnics in the world, the ones who hadn’t rebelled against their programming and spewed out appliances of death and destruction, but the thing that had risen out of the east Chinese sea and threatened to sink the Korean peninsula wasn’t exactly a cute little roomba.

Meeting the Bastion unit that old man Torbjörn dug out of Sweden had made her reconsider her position on Omnics, just slightly.

It had been during a photo-shoot they had met, a joint operation between the South Korean and the United States militarys — the kind of event that the Americans called “cross-promotion” when what they meant was “propaganda.” D.Va’s inclusion was almost an afterthought, pitched by MEKA for her brand’s popularity and to widen the expo’s audience appeal. For the most part, all she had to do was shake hands with shoddy old bureaucratic men and pose with her mech. After a few hours with the photographer the organizers ran out of things for her to do, and she was shuffled off into the gardens outside the building to sip non-alcoholic sparkling cider and be bored as hell while the “adults” talked business.

Then, from a behind a shrub, beeping. “Bwee, bwoo bwoorbweebweep booo…”

D.Va abandoned her empty plastic champagne flute to investigate, because beeping bushes were the most interesting thing that had happened in hours.

She followed the noise to its source, a pristine Bastion unit that she would have balked at the sight of and sounded the alarm… if it hadn’t been very carefully unshelling a bag of vending machine peanuts with its huge robot hands, and feeding them to a family of ravenous squirrels. D.Va vaguely recalled the news that they’d reclaimed a Bastion unit over in Europe, but she’d thought it would be under lock and key in some remote facility, not hanging out in a government park, making nice with the local wildlife.

“Bweep bweep,” the thing chimed, shifting its… optic?… over in her direction. Spotted.

D.Va took a step back, and snapped a twig beneath her heel, sending the rodents scattering. The machine beeped sadly at their departure, and five minutes later, despite herself, D.Va found herself keeping the Omnic company, sitting on its back as it rolled around the park in tank form.

It… Bastion unit E54, was a good listener, she’d give the robot that much. She spilled her guts to the machine about her frustrations and anxiety, and Bastion always replied with the appropriate emotion (if you could call it that) in its signature style. Sad bwoops for D.Va’s worries, curious bweeps when she talked about gaming, happy bwops and beeps when she talked about how proud she was of her progress.

A photo of D.Va in an elegant gown, riding on top of a Bastion unit as it plucked a flower and offered it to her, made its way on to Omnic rights webpages as a sign of peaceful progress between the races of man and machine… then was picked up a few days later by the mainstream media, who smeared her with rumor-mongering headlines like “KOREAN MECH PILOT, LYING DOWN WITH THE MACHINE?” and “SO-CALLED HEROINE OPENLY EMBRACES ENEMY”. It was a short-lived scandal, but those tense few days where MEKA threatened to pull D.Va from the spotlight made her sick with stress until the PR department managed to spin the story in a positive light.

Her fans (with a few crybaby outliers screaming about betrayal, but screw those guys, really) just thought it was a cute photo. Her Japanese audience especially appreciated its “moe factor” and spammed her with fan art.

D.Va was just glad that the experience, which she would remember fondly as the most open she had been since her grandmother had died, had not been entirely tainted by the unexpected aftermath.

 

 

From that point onward, however, MEKA was much more careful about where D.Va was allowed to go. Her life became nothing but endless training, drilling, and fighting. If she had thought her schedule had been strict before, the D.Va of a few months ago wouldn’t have been able to imagine what it was like to only be allowed nine hours to herself a day — eight for sleep, one for meals. Perhaps it was MEKA’s way of punishing her, or perhaps they feared an increase in the Omnic’s ferocity after the recent assassination of Tekhartha Mondatta, leader of the Omnic spiritual movement, the Shambali. Either way, with no time to spend on her usual hobby, the most she got in the way of stress relief was reading the travel blog of Mei-Ling Zhou (and a mobile version of mahjong she played for a little before bed each night, but that was more so her brain didn’t get cobwebs).

Mei was a figure of fascination to D.Va — sleeping in the cold for nine years, only to emerge into a tumultuous world where her organization had been disgraced and disbanded. Having to escape from the arctic tundra with nothing but her wits… then going on to continue the work right where she and her fallen comrades had left off. _Saving the world!_ …from an ecological crisis, sure, which wasn’t exactly as cool as an evil empire bent on conquest or a dark god from beyond the stars or a demon army, but Mei very much had the indomitable spirit of her favorite video game heroes. 

So when she heard Mei was coming to South Korea to set up a weather data collection device at one of their military bases, D.Va asked — not begged, or pleaded, but seriously and maturely requested for her CO to grant D.Va the honor of acting as an ambassador during Mei’s visit.

Sooner or later the higher-ups at MEKA had to stop treating her like a child. She was fighting their war, they came to her for aid.

They tentatively agreed, provided D.Va remain on her best behavior leading up to the visit. It was like dealing with her mother all over again, and left a sour taste in her mouth as she exited the administration building.

At least the excitement made the coming weeks bearable.

Finally, the day came. D.Va stood tall, dressed in a pristine MEKA uniform, her arms crossed confidently over her chest and her stance wide and strong, as the transport shuttle reached the helipad and touched down. Her first thought, as the scientist clambered out of the craft somewhat unsteadily, was that Mei-Ling Zhou looked different when she wasn’t bundled up in that heavy fur coat.

A moment later second thought was _she’s so cute!_ Round face! Big dewy eyes! And she was so short D.Va could reach down and scoop her right up! The MEKA pilot approached the older woman, smiling brightly.

“Zhou-Seonbae! Welcome to sunny South Korea,” D.Va said, bidding Mei peace with a gesture — or, as D.Va preferred, V for Victory.

“Hello Miss Song,” the woman said, in mildly accented hangul. Then, switching to english, “Just call me Mei, if you don’t mind!”

“Only if you call me D.Va!” she chirped, and Mei smiled back at her as she hefted a large metal case out of the cabin. She was strong for such a little woman.

They thanked the shuttle pilot, and D.Va escorted Mei to a waiting car and their security escort. The ride over to the cellphone tower where Mei would be installing her probe was only twenty minutes travel the base’s airport, but the short journey was full of happy chatter. D.Va confided that Mei’s travel journal was a source of great personal inspiration to her, and the older woman introduced her to Snowball, Mei’s cute little drone.

“Snowball… that’s nun mungchi, in hangul.”

“Nun mungzhe…?” Mei said, consideringly, patting the little bot on its round head. Snowball’s blue LED eyes swiveled around to look at her. Adorable.

“Nun mungchi.” D.Va held up a finger, her face serious. The spitting image of a patient, if strict, teacher.

“Nun mungchi.” Mei repeated earnestly.

“You’ve got it!” D.Va said, delighted. Mei put her hand on her chest and beamed, as if receiving a great honor.

“Niiirn miiirrchiii,” Snowball whirred cheerfully, bopping the car’s roof in its excitement before careening back down to the seat below, blue eyes spinning cartoonishly.

They were still laughing when their car pulled up to the tower.

 

 

At the end of Mei’s stay, the two women parted with great reluctance, both promising to stay in touch. D.Va couldn’t have been happier to count Mei among her friends, and refreshed from the time she had spent getting to know her hero, plunged back into her training with renewed vigor and enthusiasm.

Just in time, too, as MEKA mobilized in response to one of the worst Omnic raids yet, spearing farther inland than even the most pessimistic estimate predicted. The enemy forces had quickly spilled over into unevacuated civilian territory and time was of the essence. They deployed at four in the morning to hold down the line in Daegu while the infantry set up a defensive perimeter. Her orders were to cut the enemy off from encroaching further, to minimize damage whenever possible, and to defend fleeing civilians.

As D.Va touched down in Daegu and began to repel the machine invaders, she saw there weren’t many people left to defend.

 _This battle,_ she thought grimly, as she gunned down a line of drones as they swept through an abandoned playground, _is not exactly livestream material._

Hemmed in on all sides, D.Va made a tactical retreat and found a vantage point from which to target her foes at more of a distance — everyone knew the high ground was most advantageous. Her fusion cannons were essentially buffed shotguns, the wide spread of buckshot not meant for precision shooting, but she would manage. The targeting system of her mech got a real workout as she sniped stragglers from the Omnic’s main forces (“Boom, headshot!”), eventually drawing their attention all over again. Nowhere to go, she switched mental tracks to tower defense game and activated her mech’s defense matrix, unleashing a strategic barrage of missiles. Soon, the twisted bodies of the Omnic assault forces lay strewn around the pitted street, their zerg rush at a merciful end — for now.

“…multikill,” she panted, the fusion cannons mounted in her mech’s arms smoking, the barrels white-hot. Any more and the metal would warp — not that it mattered much now, seeing that she was down to less than three-fourths of her ammo capacity. A bead of sweat dripped down her face. If she were being honest, that had been… a real pinch.

Time to restock.

“Need a supply drop,” she said into the comms, waiting for confirmation from command. A minute passed in worrying silence.

“This is D.Va, requesting a resupply drone. Please acknowledge, over.”

There was no response. She switched to the encrypted channels, trying again to reach command to no avail, before attempting to contact the various squad captains.

Nothing.

“Is it broken…? Well, that’s just my luck!”

Even in the privacy of her thoughts, she refused to acknowledge the bleak alternative.

A plan started to come together. Under the circumstances, D.Va would have to make her way over to the supply depot on foot… so to speak. She boosted into the air, intending to take the rooftop route, collateral damage be damned. It was just a few short miles to the north, along the perimeter.

An unexpected burst of fire caught her mech across its visor, the heavy steel slug sending a long hairline fracture through the supposedly bulletproof polymer. She wheeled around to face the source, spotting an airborne Omnic with a mounted railgun of all things. She strafed left, aiming carefully for the machine’s rotors, but it simply tilted away, her barrage deflected harmlessly by its armored shell.

_…OP, plz nerf._

Not missing a beat, she fired her last missile at the hovering Omnic, but the distance was too great — it simply swiveled its body 360 degrees clockwise on an axis, the missile sailing harmlessly through the spot its bulk had been occupying a nanosecond previously. Just as she began contemplating activating her mech’s self destruct sequence and booking it, the readout on her HUD indicated a swarm of enemies was approaching from the southwest. Fast.

“Ah, shi-bal…”

No choice now, she would have to make a break for it—

_“I’ve got you all in my sights.”_

A splash of light in the alleyway where the Omnic hoard was approaching, and one by one the enemy’s icons flickered out, leaving just two — the flying railgun in enemy-red, and the unknown combatant in grey, who was approaching her position now. Were they friend or foe?

As the grey icon came nearer, one thing was clear: they were about to walk right into that railgun’s line of sight, and it was almost done charging a second shot.

Time to be a goddamn hero.

“STAY BACK,” she shouted, the mech magnifying her voice, as she grabbed her light gun from its holster and activated the self-destruct subroutine. The mech launched forward and she launched back, and she was briefly airborne before landing on her heels, digging into the asphalt even as she tried to gain some distance. The timing was crucial, and she knew it by heart, but this was cutting it a little close—

The fusion reactor detonated, shattering a block’s worth of glass and decimating the aerial Omnic.

Well, if anyone asked, she’d just say an Omnic did it.

D.Va, upright and unharmed, popped her gum and turned to face the stranger, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes.

“I know you,” she said in english. “The American vigilante… Soldier: 76. Is that right?”

His weapon, which had been raised in alarm towards the explosion, slowly lowered as he took her in. She kept her grip on her light gun tight, but let her arm hang at her side. This guy could be dangerous, could be an ally. She would have to play this by ear.

The masked man grunted by way of greeting, then relaxed his stance. That was no way to react to a warrior of her caliber, but if he wasn’t going to take her seriously as a potential combatant, she would happily take advantage of his oversight. Moreover, now that D.Va could get a good look at him, he seemed injured. There was no visible blood, but he was favoring his left leg… a sprain or break, perhaps.

“You’re that… actress.” Tch.

“I’m a proud soldier of the Mobile Exo-Force of the Korean Army, and you are wanted by the UN for questioning.” He ought to know his place, this old man.

“You, a soldier?” He shook his head, and without the benefit of seeing his expression, it was difficult to tell if it was in disbelief… or amusement. “Your country drafts middle schoolers, now?”

“I am a mech pilot with hundreds of confirmed kills, and unless you can withstand a direct hit from a weapon that damaged tech developed on a multi-million dollar budget, I _also_ just saved your life.”

Perhaps he was shocked into submission, or perhaps he was grateful but too proud to admit it, but regardless, the old man had nothing to say to that. Cool and professional despite her distaste, she approached him from his injured side and offered him her shoulder. Grumbling, he slung his gun around his back and wordlessly accepted her aid, leaning on her as she supported him. Soldier: 76 was heavy, but D.Va didn’t just train in mech piloting. No, she was also quite talented on the track, in the obstacle course, and (naturally), on the range. With her free hand, she twirled her gun.

“You’re a decent shot, right, 76? Try to keep up. It’s a long walk to the perimeter.”

“Hmph. We’ll see who slows down who.”

 

 

The destruction of Daegu was a huge blow to the people of South Korea, who had grown comfortable and confidant after MEKA began its initiative to outfit its mechs with pilots and repel the Omnic invasion. Morale was especially low in MEKA’s headquarters, the mood desperate and mournful since the confusion caused by the communications blackout (which resulted from an Omnic hack) had seen many young pilots killed. The populace’s faith in MEKA was shaken, just as those pilots who had managed to survive the disaster where shaken by the loss of their comrades in arms.

It wasn’t the first time they had taken casualties, but never before have they been so numerous.

D.Va felt a wave of pity and understanding for the dissolution of Overwatch, an event of which Soldier: 76 had spoken to her about, just a little, as they fought and fled their way through the streets of Daegu. It had been what little information she managed to get out of him, between his long bouts of gruff silence, occasional condescending remarks, and even rarer praise.

For her part, D.Va was keeping busy with disaster relief. She, along with a bulk of the MEKA recruits, had volunteered their time to the recovery efforts. Command had cleared them for this duty almost almost as soon as they put the request in, probably just because it was a good idea to stay visible to help PR, but who knows? Maybe they thought it would lift their spirits.

As much as D.Va believed this was valuable work, however, it just depressed her. The sooner she was allowed to fight again, the happier she would be. No matter what that Grandpa: 76 said, she knew her place was on the battlefield.

For now, at least, she could occupy her time constructively. It was better than sitting back at base, doing nothing. Yesterday she had cleared a street of rubble, today she assisted the paramedics with search and rescue. Tomorrow she might help with handing out supplies…

Her mech beeped twice, and a bell icon appeared at the bottom of her HUD. A call, nonurgent.

She pressed the receive button, accepting it immediately.

“D.Va,” she identified.

“It’s Maeng,” came the familiar voice of her fellow recruit. “We’ve got a VIP waiting in the market district. You mind playing babysitter until we can get a security detail on him? My shift is just about over and I wanted to grab a bite before I get some shuteye.”

“Yes, yes,” she replied, as he pinged her the VIP’s location on her minimap. “You can always count on me to make a good impression!”

Her usual cheer wasn’t quite there, but Maeng still thanked her before he exited the call. He was a sweet kid, and it was heartbreaking the way he hadn’t been sleeping since the incident. It was the least she could do.

D.Va headed over, detouring briefly to assist with an electrical fire that had broken out, before arriving at the designated area. Exiting her mech, she checked her hair in the glossy reflection of its visor, winking at the cute girl mirrored back at her.

“Oh my gosh,” went a warm voice behind her, from inside a large emergency tent, “I mean, I knew you were from here, but I never thought… well…”

That voice was… familiar.

The man stepped into the light, and D.Va’s eye widened. The Brazilian DJ smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as he walked… no, skated forward.

“It’s so cool to meet you. Wish it was under better circumstances, but I’m a big fan, D.Va!”

“You’re Lúcio! _The_ Lúcio,” she exclaimed, a disbelieving smile pulling at her lips. _That Maeng could’ve at least warned her…!_

Lúcio blinked at her, then grinned goofily. D.Va trotted forward giddily, and the two shook hands enthusiastically.

“Haha, you’ve heard of me? Man, that’s wild. People know me even in Korea, huh. Makes me feel even better about doing this charity concert, if people won’t be wondering ‘who’s this guy?’ the whole time, you know?”

“Of course we know you! Synaesthesia Auditiva has topped the music charts here for months and months now! A lot of us followed you even before that, on the internet.”

“I’d been told global reception was pretty good, but you know, there’s a big difference between being told and seeing it for yourself, I guess! I probably don’t even have to say this, but you’re really big in Brazil. The kids call you Coelhinho, and I’ve even seen people with tattoos of your logo, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I believe it,” D.Va said confidently, putting her hands on her hips. Lúcio laughed good-naturedly, doubling over and shaking his head so all his funny dreadlocks waved around. When he rose, D.Va couldn’t help but think that he was awfully tall. She stood up straighter, feeling her face light up just a little bit.

“So you’re doing a free concert?” she asked, leading them back to the seating in the tent. Folding chairs. Not the most comfortable or appropriate thing for a pair of international celebrities, but that was life.

“Yeah. I’ve done this a couple of times before, like during that hurricane that wrecked Georgia and Florida, or when that bad earthquake hit Italy. Trying to use the power of music to lift spirits, you feel me? First time I’ve ever had a concert in Asia, though.”

“I’m sure the people here will be happy to have you play for them,” D.Va said. She meant it, too.

“I’ve got a fundraiser going online right now, too, and it’s going pretty good. Hopefully I’ll be able to give a little more than good vibrations,” Lúcio said, smiling conspiratorially. “I’d give you a sneak peak at the set I cooked up, but I can’t even get ready until the power in this area comes back, and the last guy told me it might be a while.”

“…probably a few hours, at least,” she admitted.

The conversation lulled into a slightly awkward pause, as they both smiled and tried not to look at each other. D.Va didn’t understand why she was being so silly about this — she had met scores of K-Pop artists and famous actors, so she shouldn’t be feeling this flustered. She stared at the dusty ground, and traced a line in the dirt with her foot. It gave her an idea.

Finally, she broke the silence.

“Lúcio, have you ever played gonu?”

“Nope,” he replied, flashing a winning smile. D.Va liked that smile. She liked it a lot.

“It’s a traditional Korean game — a little bit like tic-tac-toe. Here, let me show you…”

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyy, come visit me at https://extra-fulgadrome.tumblr.com/ if you're feelin' it.


End file.
